


A New Leaf

by carpelucem



Category: Snow White and the Huntsman (2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Miscommunication, Romance, mention of canon character death prior to story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 14:31:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpelucem/pseuds/carpelucem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A summer ride, a hidden garden, and a few long suppressed truths find the light of day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Leaf

**Author's Note:**

> 11/15 - This has now been thoroughly jossed with the arrival of The Huntsman trailer/plot, but such is life.

It was well past midsummer, the weather almost turning over to autumn, apparent in the chill the evenings had taken after the sun dipped beneath the horizon. The land was still green, though, clinging fiercely to the life it had been denied for so many years, unwilling to surrender to colder weather. The sun shone bright as Eric galloped across the meadow toward the castle, it was a fine morning, gulls calling in the distance and a crisp breeze blowing in from the sea. 

He ventured to the palace more days than not, the pull of his young queen stronger than even he would admit to himself. Most of the time, Eric would find himself halfway to her before realizing he'd even left his small cottage on the edge of the village. It was a draw that tugged in his chest, a twisting ache that was seemingly only soothed by Snow's presence.

It still felt unnatural to Eric, to swear devotion to someone other than his sweet Sarah, and most days he tried to brush it off his shoulders like leaves falling from the trees. But always, in the most unexpected of moments, Snow's dark eyes would catch his, a smile banked in their depths even when none played upon her lips, and the warmth that burned in his belly reminded him. 

As his horse cantered the well worn trail, Eric's fingers toyed with the stone he wore around his neck, green as Sarah's eyes, a gift for which he'd traded his sword after the war. After she was no longer with him, he found it by their bed. With it hanging on a cord, ready for his hands to smooth the surface, it gave him a sense of peace in times of turmoil when nothing else seemed to calm his thoughts.

He wondered what his beloved wife would say to him, were she able to speak to him now. Her open and loving heart would likely render her amenable to his relations with Snow, they were of similar strength and temper, and she would undoubtedly congratulate the queen on her fine taste in men. Sarah would reassure the doubtful voice within Eric that ever protested he wasn't man enough for a queen. She would lay her hand upon his cheek and laugh at his uncertainty, draw him close to murmur gentle admonishments in his ear, to scold him for thinking so little of himself and of her judgment in husbands. She would urge him not to waste time on prideful matters, nor to let his mind get the better of his heart.

Eric knew that Sarah would approve of his path in life, would give her blessing to him, to both of them. It was simply his own guilt that held Eric back, from professing the way of his heart to Snow. He had so far relied upon his presence and protection to convey his desires for the queen, to speak the words that were caught within him, unable to yet break free. They were dammed up in his throat, choking him with their weight, and they grew heavier every day.

Mayhap one day the words would finally just tumble from his lips, unfettered by the chains he attached to them. 

Easing through the gates, Eric greeted the guards, men he drank and fought beside, the closest to friends he'd ever known. Usually, he might stop and chat for a moment, exchange pleasantries. Not this morning, however. He guided his horse to the stables with an urgency that crept upon him. It had been many days since Eric's last visit, and now that he was settled in the fortress, he was anxious to find Snow. 

Leaving his gelding in the stall, Eric paced the halls for his queen. She wasn't in attendance at breakfast, and her meeting quarters were empty. Ready to pound upon her bedchamber door, Eric was stopped by one of Snow's attendants, who dropped to a quick curtsy before him. He remembered the girl from the village at the edge of the forest, her scars barely visible after months of food and care in the palace. She offered him a smile as she rose.

"My lady broke her fast in the garden this day. She remains there still, should you seek her."

Eric nodded, thanking her, and made his leave. Winding his way through the castle, down the stone staircase, and past the kitchen vegetable beds to a quiet enclave outside, it took him a few moments to spot her in the greenery. He'd only ventured to her gardens once before, and in the late summer, found it to be even more beautiful than he'd remembered.

The garden was her private space, where Snow worked the earth, planting what she liked simply for her own pleasure. There were tangles of wildflowers and saplings Snow had transported from the woods past her castle, a beehive and butterflies landing here and there. It teemed with life, and more than any other spot in the palace, his queen seemed at home here amongst her plants and birds. A bench sat in the far corner, under the apple tree Snow's mother had planted so many years before, and that was where Eric found Snow.

"Forgive me, Sarah," he offered up several paces away, as he ever did before seeking out the queen. Eric made his way through the roses and strawberries, sinking to a knee before Snow once he approached her. 

"My lady," he spoke, and her laughter at the solemnity of his greeting broke the silence. She beckoned him to her side, patting the bench and asked him to sit beside her. Seated next to Snow, Eric took in the garden surrounding them. The high walls of weathered stone muffled the thrum of the sea and the noises from the castle, leaving a quiet hum of insects and the sunlight streaming through the branches of the tree above them. 

"It's lovely here, is it not?" 

"Aye, lass." It was beautiful in her own little patch of Sanctuary, in the refuge she'd created for herself. Eric felt the weight of the honor she'd bestowed upon him by allowing him to join her, and he was grateful for the opportunity. He just couldn't find the strength to speak words that teemed in his mind. 

Snow's hand found his own, her fingers lightly resting over his. It astounded him how slight the touch was and how heavy the meaning behind the simple gesture.

"I prefer it, for it's easy to remember here," she began, her voice suddenly wistful. "It's harder everywhere else." 

"Remember what?" he asked, for it seemed a shame that such a lovely place could carry a pallor for her. "The demons can't find you any longer, my lady, and certainly not here." 

A smile spread across Snow's lips, and she gently shook her head. 

"Not those memories. Those live in the tower, behind iron bars. They aren't allowed here." She slid close to him and pointed with her free hand to a low branch. A small bauble, what looked like a rose on a delicate chain, swung from the limb of the tree. "That's for my mother." 

A sword plunged into the ground near the bench for her father. The narrow dagger from Gus dangled from a ribbon, the golden handle gleaming in the sun. There was even a woven circlet of delicate flowers that was looped over the stump of a pruned limb his eyes lit upon, the origins of which Eric couldn't place. 

"Ravenna," Snow explained calmly. "It was from her wedding to my father. She was also my mother for a time, was she not?"

He nodded once, unable to find fault with her logic, however horrific and twisted an example of parentage Ravenna had been, Snow's words were true. The idea of it, however, still confounded Eric. 

"I can feel them here, Huntsman. Perhaps by leaving tokens and remembering them where it's peaceful and quiet, I am not plagued elsewhere by the memories that ache. Perhaps it sets them free as well."

He found himself running a finger along the strand at his neck, the polished stone warm and familiar against his skin. 

"I know the fault is mine when you refrain from coming to the castle." 

"My lady, I don't - I cannot," he started, but Snow just held a finger to his lips. His eyes flew to hers but her gaze held no guile, no trickery. 

"I will speak plainly, please, sir." He bit his tongue, but in that moment, her regal bearing faltered. Snow was once again the runaway girl sitting on a rickety dock, fearful and uncertain. Before she spoke, he felt he knew the words she was about to say. 

"Your heart belongs to another, Eric, I know this to be truth. And I know it is promised to her but I cannot help wishing that it were not so." There was a tremble in Snow's voice, one that Eric was wholly dismayed to realize he had put there, through his lack of words and surplus of clumsy action. 

"Snow, please."

"I don't want to hang a trinket from a branch to remember you, I cannot." Had she truly no idea of his intent toward her, the overtures of his heart? Eric's shoulders stiffened at the chilling realization, that she feared losing him, too. That this, where they rested, beautiful as it appeared, was the graveyard of the life previously denied to Snow. The decorations and baubles were reminders to her, tokens of affection which stood sentry for the love she had never known. 

His purpose suddenly became clear, like dawn rays through a window. Eric shifted from the seat to the ground in front of Snow, taking her hand in his. 

"You won't have to, my lady, I swear to you." His fingers tightened about hers when she tried to tug away, worrying her lip between her teeth, obvious distress on her face.

"I have said too much. I beg your forgiveness, Eric, please." 

"You are my queen, Snow White. You beg for nothing." His voice, forceful and strong, startled them both. Eric's thumb traced over her fingers, his eyes pleading. "My lady, I fear I've been remiss in many things in my life, but I swear, none of them could be a more grave offense than this."

Snow shook her head, perhaps mistaking his meaning. 

'Damn you,' he silently scolded himself. He took a deep breath and started again. "If you would hear me-"

Snatching her hand from his, Snow shied back on the bench. "Please don't make a fool of me, Eric. I cannot bear it."

"The only fool here is kneeling before you." Silent, the moment hung between them, heavy with words unsaid. Words he needed to say. Snow's hand reached out, tentatively, traced down the side of his face and neck to rest over the stone on his chest. It warmed under her touch, almost like a heartbeat, and Eric suddenly knew, more than anything he could say, how to make his point clear. 

He slipped his fingers under the cord around his neck and drew the pendant off. It dangled from his hand, catching the light, casting a warm brilliant green across his skin where Snow laid her hand. The wind rustled through the leaves overhead, and Eric could have sworn he heard a peal of laughter in the trees.

"Tell her," he thought it said.

A moment later, the sun shifted and the stone was dark in his palm, and Eric felt a curious lightness in his chest. Snow was still looking at him, curious, but almost hopeful. 

He knew, as sure as he'd ever been, that now was the time. Taking a deep breath, he began to speak. 

"My intent may not always be clear, my lady - Snow. But I have no doubt as to where my heart belongs." 

\--

For years upon years, the stone hung from a prominent branch in the apple tree, a leaf that never turned color nor faded with the seasons. Each time Eric laid eyes upon it, a smile touched his lips and he clasped tighter the hand of the woman by his side, while whispering a silent thank you to Sarah.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
